


Bets

by Woozletania



Series: Sanctuary [4]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Fear, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 07:46:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17658818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woozletania/pseuds/Woozletania
Summary: A harmless betting game, inspired by a few too many drinks, reveals another of Rocket's horrible secrets.Takes place between Living With Rocket 4 and 5, some months after GOTG1.





	Bets

"I bet you," Gamora said to Drax, "That you can't whistle a tune."

"That I can't what?" Drax's brows knitted together in confusion.

"It's a noise you make with your mouth," Star-Lord said.

No one was quite sure why it started. Mini-Groot was asleep in his pot, there'd been a few too many drinks, plenty of food. Everyone was sleepy and relaxed, and out of the blue Gamora challenged Drax.

Drax tapped the side of his head. "Perhaps there is no such word in our language. I must forfeit."

"No, no," Gamora said with a smile. "You don't get out of it this easily. Whistling is like this." She put her lips together and let out a single pure note. "But you must make a tune."

"Ah! That!" Drax brightened. "Mouth farts. I can do that." And to everyone's astonishment he leaned back and whistled the first few bars of _Southern Nights._

"Shoulda saved that one for me, Gams," Rocket said. He tossed back another thimble-sized cup of glowing blow liqueur. "I don't have the lips for it."

"It is my turn, yes?" When Peter nodded, Drax continued. "Mantis, I bet that cannot stand up and put your hands flat on the ground. No bending your knees."

As confused as Drax was a moment before, Mantis stood, leaned down and put her her palms flat on the deck. "Like this?"

Drax cursed, and Rocket snickered. "Just because you can't do doesn't mean other people can't."

"Got that right," Star-Lord said. "No one use that one on Rocket. He sleeps curled up in a ball. He can probably lick himself all over."

"What, you can't?" Rocket grinned at Peter's horrified look.

"Hey, just because I can't lick my balls doesn't mean I am not flexible." His natural recklessness fueled by alcohol, Peter leapt to his feet. "Hit me, Mantis. With a bet," he added when her face grew cloudy with confusion again.

"Oh, I see." The antennae'd alien though for a moment. "Peter Quill, I challenge you to stand on your head."

Peter's smile faded as he contemplated the hard metal decking. "Can I used something as a cushion?"

"As long as it doesn't help you balance," Mantis said generously.

Peter could have used that help. It seemed like a simple enough task, but as he put his head into the cushion Gamora tossed to him and he kicked his legs upward it was obvious he had no idea how to balance. He wobbled, squirmed desperately to maintain his stand, and finally fell over onto the deck with a thump.

"Ha!" Drax boomed out a laugh. "Ravagers can't do headstands!"

"Got that right," Peter grumbled as he made his way back to his chair. "If I tried to do that around them, someone would kick me in the ribs for a laugh."

He looked from Rocket to Gamora, but there was never any doubt as to who he'd choose. "Rocket."

"Yeah?" The raccoon paused with a cup halfway to his muzzle. "Go ahead, hit me with your best shot, Pete."

"I bet," Star-Lord said, "That you can't walk on your hands."

He should have noticed. He should have seen how Rocket's little clawed hand twitched as he was setting down the cup, how his ears went down a fraction, and the greatest tell of all, the flash of white around his red-brown eyes as they widened in fear. Rocket flinched as he looked at the floor but he recovered so quickly Star-Lord missed it. Gamora didn't. Neither did Drax.

"Peter," Gamora said, but Rocket interrupted.

"Got it," he growled, rising up on all fours and studying the metal deckplates. They'd broken and reshaped his torso, twisted his limbs to a semblance of humanity, but his arms and legs were still the same length. He could still go on all fours and often did when in a hurry.

"Walk on my hands, huh?" He sprang off the chair before Drax could open his mouth and landed neatly on his little clawed hands. His tail splayed out behind to balance and he bent his muzzle up between his arms to see where he was going. With no hesitation or uncertainty he walked over to Peter, bent his arms and leapt up onto Star-Lord's knee, still standing on his hands.

Peter just had time to brace his leg against forty pounds of cyborg raccoon as Rocket landed on his thigh. Strong clawed hands gripped him and Peter saw the leathery soles of the raccoon's feet go by as Rocket reached out.- with his feet no less - and picked up the bunch of grapes on Star-Lord's plate. Rocket looked up, grinned, and hopped back down onto the deck before bending into a backward arch to lower the grapes into his mouth.

"All right already, you win." Peter extended his leg to give Rocket a push. In his half drunk state he underestimated his strength and the result was shocking. As he gave the raccoon a strong enough shove to unbalance him Rocket let out a startled chirp, dropped the grapes and backpeddled frantically away from Peter to maintain his balance. Only after recovering it, eyes wide and breathing heavily, he walked back over, balanced one-handed to grab and throw the grapes back to his feet, and continued on to his chair where he once again sprang up onto it by bending and straightening his arms. Only then did he sit, the grapes between his legs, and begin to eat them.

"Pretty good, huh?" He popped a grape into his mouth and grinned. He covered it up well. If Peter hadn't lived alongside him for so so long he wouldn't see the signs of diminishing terror. Rocket walked on his hands very well. And now Peter knew why. 

"Okay, Gams, I'll think of something. Soon as I get back from the head." Leaving the grapes, Rocket hopped down off the chair - onto his feet this time - and made his way down the hall to the bathroom.  


"You saw it," Drax whispered when Rocket was too far away to hear.

"Yeah." Peter rubbed his eyes. "When I was little, I played a game. 'The floor is lava'."

"But only when you touch it with more than two limbs." Gamora saw it happen, saw the sudden terror in Rocket's eyes as Peter's foot pushed him off balance, the desperate effort to stay on his hands.

"If I were training a natural quadruped to stand up on two feet..." Drax said.

"He's stubborn," Gamora continued. "He knew what they wanted. He did it that way to annoy them."

"Or because his feet were hurt." Peter got a good close look at the soles of Rocket's feet today, of thick, healthy skin below, claws and fur on top. It wasn't always that way. When they finally talked him into having his cybernetics and wounds worked on, not so long ago, the soles of his feet were masses of scars. Old, badly healed burns, cuts, stabs. Rocket's palms, healed now, had been just as bad. 

Every time that poor pre-Rocket raccoon put down a paw, went on three or four legs...Peter didn't like to think about it. It must have hurt just to walk, even after the wounds healed.

"But he goes on all fours all the time. Sometimes you trip over the guy." Peter worked it out before Gamora or Drax could answer. "Except the common room." The rest of the Milano had rubber cladding on the deck to muffle footfalls. Only the common room had a metal deck. 

Even so, Rocket knew he was safe here. The fear that hit him was irrational and he'd deny it ever happened, but they'd all seen it. Some fears - and scars - run deep.

Mantis held a finger to her lips as the bathroom door opened down the hall. Rocket appeared, methodically - some would saw compulsively - drying his hands on his furry thighs. He hopped up into the chair, ate another grape and thought for a moment. "Okay, Gamora, I bet you can't..."

The game continued, they joked and laughed, and no one mentioned the incident ever again. 

No doubt it was a coincidence that at their very next fuel stop Peter bought a roll of rubber deck cladding and spent the afternoon with Drax laying it throughout the common room. "Because my boots clomp on the floor there," Peter would say if pressed. But he and Drax and Gamora and Mantis knew the real reason. Maybe Rocket and even mini-Groot did too, but neither said a word.

No one was going to make a scared little raccoon walk on lava. Not on this ship. Not if Peter Quill had anything to say about it.


End file.
